I' Mal Lasse The Golden Leaf
by Ista of the Dreamers
Summary: After Legolas loses his memory, he finds true love in a mortal woman.
1. Fair Stranger

Title: I' Mal Lasse(The Golden Leaf)  
Chapter 1: Fair Stranger  
Author: Ista of the Dreamers  
Rating: G-PG . . . I guess  
Disclaimer: I do not own Legolas or any of the other characters J.R.R. Tolkien created in the Lord of the Rings.....darn. But the character of Kira Aparathon is mine.  
Stuff: I have written LOTR parodies, but this was the first fic I ever wrote for my friends who are obsessed with Legolas, on screen and off. Personally, I go for the hobbit type! :) Feedback/comments/ reviews are welcome either by email or on ff.net Just tell me what you think! :) Thank you for reading this!  
  
I' Mal Lasse(The Golden Leaf)**  
**   
My home is quite beautiful, really, spread over the hills and rocky landscape by trees, tall and scented with the wild. I have always lived in the wild for as long as I can remember, since my mother died, and my father left to find help for her. He never came back and I buried my mother a little ways away from our small home, grave covered in lilacs and sheltered from the wind.  
  
I had been alone ever since I was ten, and in those fifteen years that had passed since I was ten, I had seen naught a living soul, save for the birds, beetles, and small animals on the ground and in the air. A thought that was often on my mind was whether I should leave my home and go looking for others like me: humans, but the minute I start  
walking, an overpowering fear catches my breath, and I cannot go on. It is fear that keeps me forever sheltered and always alone. I am afraid what I will find if I go out looking for my father. I could find him in another house, married, with several children, and I would be able to forgive him and walk away, but I am afraid that if I did look for him, I would find another marker: His grave.  
  
I know not of the forest in which I live and where I was born, but I do know that where I live is called middle-earth. In that land, magical creatures thrive and co-exist. My father used to tell me tales of many fair lands and enormous cities where many races lived together, but I had never seen a magical creature before. I did not care to see one, really, because I was afraid of them. I was not used to strangers for I had never met one in the forest, and if the time ever came that I happened to come upon one, I was sure that I would be scared out of my wits, and run as fast as I could back to my home.  
  
One day I put the kettle on for some tea, and proceeded to wrap extra blankets around my body because the weather had turned crisp. Winter was coming on, and I had already developed a nasty cold. The withered leaves and flowers in my garden seemed to be giving a last call of silent distress before the frost devoured them, and I was feeling gloomy.  
  
Suddenly I caught something with my eye out of the only window in my earthly hut. It was a golden leaf, shining quite brightly in the early afternoon day. Even though the sky was gray and bleak, sunlight poured out of the little golden leaf, different to its kin. I stood transfixed. I could not get the image of the leaf falling to the ground out of my mind. I had to pick it up.  
  
So that is how I saw the man walking in the distance, leaves falling all around him. He walked as someone in a dream walks, but to his form and spirit, the movement seemed contradictory; backwards. His figure was very small in the distance, but as he walked, it became clear that this man was not my father, but a stranger.  
  
Fear instantly took its hold on me. I could not think, but merely rushed inside to hide, though as I peered out of the window at the man approaching, I knew it was no use. He had already seen my home and was walking straight towards it. There was only one thing to do now. I grabbed my father's sword in its sheath, hoisted it up to my knee, for it was quite heavy, then bundled up and went out into the cold.  
  
I waited under the awning of my little house for the man to approach, and when he was near enough to me, I shouted. It was strange hear my own voice.  
  
"Don't come any closer! What is your business here?"  
  
The man kept walking, much to my horror, and didn't seem to pay any attention to my shrieking threats, even though they were half hearted. When he came ten feet to me, he stopped, and I drew my sword, pointing it at him fearfully.  
  
"Don't move," I said, voice quavering. "Tell me who you are and what is your business?"  
  
The man shuddered now and I could look at his frame more closely. He wore light clothes for that late time in fall, and they were shades of green. He was tall with striking features, and long, smooth, blond hair. His fine face looked pale and dull with no shining eyes. He apparently hadn't heard me, but I could see what he was carrying on his back.  
  
"Drop your weapons, please, sir."  
  
He didn't respond for quite some time until finally, his stiff arm moved, and his bow and arrows dropped to a heap on the ground. The lines of weariness on his face covered his true youth, I guessed, because without them, he looked to be my age.  
  
"Who are you?" I asked him slowly.  
  
He mumbled something.  
  
"What? Speak up!"  
  
He seemed to be remembering something, and he spoke little, his words not addressed to me, I guessed, obviously, because I could not understand them.  
  
"Mori onta . . . Dolen dae . . . Gorga."  
  
"What are you saying?"  
  
He looked at me. "Amin sintalle?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Amin . . . N'uma rina."  
  
I stepped forward cautiously. "I don't know what you're saying. What language is that?"  
  
He shook his head, and again, shuddered. Touching his head, he bowed.  
  
"What is your name?" I asked again.  
  
His voice was like frost in the air. "I don't know."  
  
"So you can speak!" I exclaimed and then tightened the grip on my sword. Who was this strange man, and why was he not giving me the one thing I needed to know? His name.  
  
"What do you mean you don't know?" I asked him, my voice growing shrill.  
  
He stared at the ground for a moment, and then slowly looked   
up, eyes narrowing in confusion.  
  
"I-I can't remember."  
  
Then he picked up his pack of arrows and strung his bow before I could even blink.  
  
"You will not capture me!" he yelled.  
  
Now I was confused. My breath came quickly, palms sweating as I rushed toward the man and heaved my sword to fend off the arrow, but before I could deliver the blow, he crumpled to his knees, bow dropping lifeless back to the ground.  
  
"I'm sorry," he cried now, over and over. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."  
  
The sword fell from my hands now too, and an overwhelming rush of pity seeped into my bones, a deep sadness, like a nocturnal morning, or the death of a great king.  
  
"It's all right," I said, my voice now as soft as snow, but warm as June. "You must be hurt, sir, or something is wrong with you if you do not know your own name. From where did you come?"  
  
He shook his head, holding back glass tears.  
  
I knelt down to him and took his hand in mine. "I was frightened of you because I have never met another person before in a long time."  
  
"Neither have I," he said, "that I can remember."  
  
I smiled. "Then we are very much alike. I shall take you inside for some tea to warm you, and then we shall try and figure out who you are."  
  
He nodded weakly and I squeezed his icy hand in mine. I supported the fair young man squarely in my arms until we entered the cozy hut, then I seated him in a chair and bundled him in blankets. Leaving him for a few moments, I raced outside, stooping to pick up his discarded pack of bows and arrows, examining them. I was astounded at the craftsmanship and the exquisite carving of each and every silver shaft, every curve of his bow as well. My stranger was someone of importance, I feared, and I did not know his name. Walking in and out of the light fall of rain, I read the initials carved once on each arrow: L.G. I did not know what the letters stood for. His name, perhaps? but hoped to find out, and tucked the arrows safely in their pouch for later use.  
  
I smiled kindly at my stranger when I returned, but he did not seem to notice me, and stared at the wall as if he could see the trees through it.  
  
"Would you like to rest?" I asked him now softly, a little unsure of what to say to him.  
  
He shook his head. "No. Tea."  
  
"Green tea?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
It was all a very awkward experience for me. I dare say that if I had come across a woman stranger instead of a man, I would have been more comfortable, partly because we'd have more to talk about, and more to relate to. I had been taught proper manners and the rule of conversation as a child, but I had never had anyone to practice them on, and now that I was faced with someone, I was afraid that if I made the slightest mistake, I would be made to look the fool. Unfortunately as I had feared, my nervousness caused me to break two cups before I even reached the table. When I got there, I nearly dropped his saucer in his lap, but he steadied my hand and brought the steaming cup to his lips, sighing. His strength seemed to grow.  
  
"Thank you," he said slowly, dark eyes flashing to mine. "I must repay you for your kindness."  
  
"A blanket and a cup of tea is hardly what I would call kindness, sir," said I, but his compliment had pleased me inwardly and I blushed.  
  
"I must leave," he said, "for I feel that it is urgent to do so."  
  
"But you don't know who you are," I said. "What good would it do? And you are cold and weak. Rest here awhile. It will help you regain the memory you've lost." I couldn't believe how my own words had changed so from when I was hiding from the man now a guest in my home.  
  
"I could hardly ask you to do anything for me," he said, "and both you and I have nothing which could lead to my identity. No clues."  
  
"What about the strange language you were speaking when we first met?" I asked him. "I have never heard it before."  
  
"What language?"  
  
"You mean you don't remember?"  
  
"No, I don't."  
  
I sighed heavily. "Well, you were walking from the north when I saw you, on a trail I am certain, and I found the initials L.G. inscribed on the arrows you carried."  
  
"L.G.," he asked, "is my name?"  
  
"Can you remember?"  
  
"No, I-" But just then, he clutched his head and reeled forward, knocking the tea kettle and tray over to spout warm liquid across the table. He fell to the floor then, crying out nameless threats and war cries, reliving something, or a certain emotion or pain, I could not tell. I quickly reached him and touched his forehead, though the act was hard as his body writhed.  
  
"Be still," I said to him, for I did not know else what to say or do. I was afraid for his life and my control. His arms flailed out but I grasped them firmly to his chest, and he lay still. He opened one bleary eye, and I felt a tingling through my fingers as I touched him, a magical, unearthly feeling. Time seemed to stop.  
  
"Do you ever have a feeling that you are dreaming when you are wide awake?" he asked me weakly.  
  
I could hear his heartbeat.  
  
"Yes," I said.  
  
He nodded then and closed his eyes. I was alone for the moment and for the next few days as well. My mother had been quite an herbalist, and I had learned from her all that there was to know about various plants and their affect on humans. The fair stranger slept in delirium over the next few days, eating seldom, sleeping mainly, and having terrible visions and nightmares at all hours of the day. With potions I was able to calm his dreams, but not altogether, and many a time, I had to fight his demons beside him in another world. He woke up, sometimes, not knowing where he was, or who I was, but he pictured me as a strange beast, evil and fighting, so I had to control his outbursts, and it was difficult, because many times, he overpowered me. I could barely eat, sleep, or leave his side for a second, and so I became weak and not strong even to chop wood for the fire. My strength was dwindling and his kept growing stronger.  
  
*End of Chapter 1*  
  
I should have the next chapter up soon! Thanks for reading this!  
-Ista


	2. Memory

Title: I' Mal Lasse(The Golden Leaf)  
Chapter 2: Memory   
Author: Ista of the Dreamers  
Rating: G-PG . . . I guess  
Disclaimer: I do not own Legolas or any of the other characters J.R.R. Tolkien created in the Lord of the Rings.....darn. But the character of Kira Aparathon is mine.  
Stuff: The usual, guys! Feedback/comments/ reviews are welcome either by email or on ff.net Just tell me what you think! :) Thank you for reading this!  
  
I' Mal Lasse(The Golden Leaf)**  
**  
I did not know how long I would be able to keep up my strength until, one day, when the young man opened his eyes slowly and gave a thin smile.  
  
"I remember you," he whispered.  
  
"Do you?" I asked faintly, bringing a damp cloth to his forehead. "You do not see me as a frightful orc?"  
  
"Orc?" he asked in confusion. "No, I know nothing of orcs."  
  
"You spoke of many creatures in your dreams; creatures I have never heard of. Goblins, elves, hobbits, and wizards, though I do not know what they are."  
  
"Nor do I," he said softly, bringing his warm hand to my cheek. "But does that matter now? The fever seems to have left me, and I feel refreshed . . ." His eyes narrowed. "But you look worn with hunger and fatigue. Will you not rest?"  
  
"No," I shook my head, my ears ringing with dizziness, and I tried to stand up, but all fell into darkness.  
  
His words sounded distant to my ears, the shadows around my vision dimmed, and I saw no more.  
  
  
I awoke to a faint humming, soft, yet clear and strong, and very cheerful. It was the type of sound that comes before spring mornings, summer nights, and cocoa in winter. Then I smelled food: wild berries, fresh bread, soft cheese. Had someone prepared a feast for me?  
  
"You're awake!" came the stranger's voice who wasn't a stranger anymore. He looked less pale, his eyes were vibrant, and he was wearing a new tunic and cloak. He knelt beside me and took my hand as I had once held his.  
  
"I wish to sincerely thank you," he said, "for saving my life and taking me in. It must have been difficult to choose what to do."  
  
"No, it wasn't," said I, sitting up slowly and feeling the sunbeams through the window. "You might think this strange, but it was the easiest decision I have ever made."  
  
He smiled and then touched his forehead slightly. "I have just realized that through all the times we have spoken to each other, I do not know your name."  
  
"One name for another," said I, trying to rekindle his memory. "Tell me your name first."  
  
"Ah, but that is not fair," he said. "Tell me your name, and then, when I can remember, you shall have mine to use as you wish."  
  
"Kira," I said. "Kira Aparathon."  
  
"Kira," he repeated. "My only friend. I shall be forever grateful to you." He then smiled, and his smile made the cold day warm for me, and forever lit my home after that. He vowed to repay my kindness, and so he helped me gather food, cook, clean, explore and dream. Most of all, he helped me to dream.  
  
Never again did he experience the terrible visions and nightmares as he had when he was feverish, and his head no longer ached. Though sometimes, on cold nights, I would see him turn in his sleep, and wondered what he could be dreaming.  
  
Those were wonderful times for me because for the first time in fifteen years, I had someone to talk to who was smart and kind. The stranger, my stranger, was what I needed in my life to renew it. I was the happiest I had been since I was ten and in my mother's arms. I realized that I was no longer a child.  
  
The days passed endlessly and the winds changed. Spring was in the air, and with spring, my stranger became more cheerful and lively. L.G. We had contemplated the initials of his name for a long time, but finally gave up. I told him that it did not matter if his name was correct or not, but I had to call him something besides 'sir'.  
  
"One day I'll have a name to place on the tip of my tongue as well as yours," he told me. "It will come in time."  
  
He was quite an excellent cook and a gardner as well. I teased him frequently that he had been the royal chef to a king far away, or a royal gardner. My fruits and vegetables fared better under his care, and the flowers bloomed brighter and sweeter when he watered, and whispered to them in his soft voice.  
  
"I don't need roses," I told him one morning. "You do not have to dirty your fine hands to please me."  
  
He smiled, almost being sarcastic. "If your eyelashes were seeds, I would plant them one by one to sprout flowers more beautiful than a thousand roses, with a smell so sweet, the bees would leave their honey for all children to steal."  
  
"You sweet talk me soft words, sir," I said. "But I fear for them. I fear for the world in which we live. I keep remembering those horrible dreams you had, the terrible wars-"  
  
"Forget them," he said. "I will explore my past on my own, and Kira-"  
  
"Yes?" My eyes flashed to his, just as soft brown, two shades blending and coursing through my garden. He held me close, but I pulled back, running away. I couldn't accept what I was doing and how I was doing it. This was happening too fast. I couldn't be falling in love . . .   
  
"Kira!" he called to me. "I'm sorry. I was forgetting myself."  
  
"Forgetting yourself?" I mumbled. "So was I if I tried to pretend that we aren't in love."  
  
"Speak to me!" he cried. "Do you love me?"  
  
So many thoughts raced through my mind then, and my whole body shook with emotion.  
  
"I love you!" came his voice on a distant breeze.  
  
My lips quivered under glass tears that had never fallen upon my cheeks before in this time. They were tears of joy.  
  
"Do you love me?"  
  
I saw him in the wind. I turned around.  
  
"I always have," came the words that tumbled from my lips as we ran to each other and embraced.  
  
**********************  
  
I awoke one night unexpectedly to see my stranger sitting by the fire in deep thought. I did not wish to disturb him, so I walked outside for a while.   
  
It was warmer outside than in the house, and it was breezy. Pale orange dust drifted across the horizon where the sun had just set, soft and mellow, when the cry of insects brought me to a slow, dreaming walk. The moon was palely shining now, and a fleeting thought echoed its way into my hopeless mind. Lavender, Lilac, Lily: These were pretty names for pretty girls, young maidens of magical kings, but my stranger needed something purer than a flower, mystical in sound and timbre. Like the whisper of frost in autumn, should his name resound on my lips: All the more loving, all the more for him to be loved. A flutter of falling shadows, a sprinkle of studding stars chimed like bells and distant music. The wind rose to greet me in the air, and my hair blew across my forehead. A deep rumbling noise came crawling over the trees.  
  
Remember . . .  
  
I cowered down, my cries lost in the wind, covering my face from the sudden shrieking storm, and then, through the screaming rage of thunder, a single voice roared in triumph.  
  
"Legolas!"  
  
Thunder exploded in the sky, rippling across the grass, pounding my ear drums. I screamed, running to him where he had shouted, and back to my hut. He needed me, and I needed him now, more than ever. I saw his figure come from the doorway and into my arms. Instantly, I felt enveloped in his warmth, the swirling breeze lifting his cloak into the air.  
  
"Legolas," he said again in my ear.  
  
I shook my head in confusion.  
  
"Legolas," he said, "is my name."  
  
"Legolas."  
  
As we kissed, a spark of lightning struck a tree in the forest, flame trickling down its branches, felling it, and the rest burning to ashes, to dust, to earth.  
  
"Legolas," I said happily. "You've remembered."  
  
He shook his head, the wind dying to nothing but a breeze like before in rebuke, and I could see how tired he was.  
  
"I remember nothing except that first name," he said with a tight jaw. "Forgive me for not giving you the other initial."  
  
"G.," I said. "It will come to you in time, Legolas."  
  
*End of Chapter 2*  
  
I should have the next chapter up soon! :)  
-Ista  
  



	3. River Reflection

Title: I' Mal Lasse(The Golden Leaf)  
Chapter 3: River Reflection  
Author: Ista of the Dreamers  
Rating: G-PG . . . I guess  
Disclaimer: I do not own Legolas or any of the other characters J.R.R. Tolkien created in the Lord of the Rings.....darn. But the character of Kira Aparathon is mine.  
Stuff: THANKS SO MUCH to everyone who has reviewed! :) If you have any reviews or feedback or comments, I'd love to hear from you! This is a pretty short chapter, but the next one is a bit longer! I should be posting it soon! Thank you for reading this!  
  
I' Mal Lasse(The Golden Leaf)**  
**  
The next day was somber as we expected, the sky filled with clouds but rain never fell. I sewed quietly in a corner while Legolas browsed through my endless library of cookbooks, and various other materials on sewing and craftsmanship.  
  
"Do you have any maps?" he asked me.  
  
I smiled sweetly. "I would know where we are if I had a map."  
  
"Too true," he said with a wink and continued his searching.  
  
"Why? Are you thinking of leaving me?" I asked him.  
  
"No my dear Kira," he said, and then laughed. "How would you like me to build you a boat?"  
  
"I dislike the water."  
  
"Surely not! Without water there is no life."  
  
"It's too . . . wet."  
  
"Exactly!" he said. "Now, the river we get water from flows east and west. It must have a source, and along its banks there must be a village or two where we can inquire-"  
  
"I'm not leaving!" I said with more anger than I felt. I waited for his verbal counter attack, but none came. I looked up from my work to find him staring with deep interest at my teacup.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Reflections of a dream," he whispered.  
  
I put down my needlework and felt my eyes melt with worry. "What do you see?"  
  
"Your reflection," he said. "Your beautiful face."  
  
"And you have never seen my reflection before?" I asked him with mild amusement now.  
  
He stood very still. "I never thought that I would be able to look at myself because you said that you owned no mirror."  
  
"I don't," I said truthfully. "And if you are talking about the teacup and window pane, they are poor replacements."  
  
"But now my thoughts of features awaken soft dreams," he said, "of the river."  
  
My eyes widened. "The river's reflection!"  
  
He grabbed my hand and rushed me out of the house before I could even protest, running along the path to the river.  
  
"Slow down, I beseech you!" came my breathless pants. "Why must you take me with you?"  
  
"Because of comparison," he said grimly. "To eradicate endless doubts and suspicions in my mind."  
  
"What suspicions?"  
  
He smiled as we ran. "You ask so many questions, Kira, and already know the answers."  
  
The trees vanished into a familiar clearing, and the vision of sparkling water met my eyes, though this time I had not come to drink of its sweet running, but merely look upon it. The edge rippled, wavering bright and clear in the sun. Lapping gently along its sandy banks, I stood, shaking, though I did not know why. My wavering image on the surface shimmered, and I stared into my eyes. I had not seen my face so clearly since a few months ago, and I was surprised to see how my complexion had changed. It was brighter with more tan and color. My face looked smooth and younger than ever before, but I was older in my features and in my eyes . . .  
  
"Kira."  
  
His voice made me snap out of my dreams, and I turned to him. His eyes were shut tight.  
  
"Look," I whispered.  
  
Legolas shook his head nervously. "I fear my reflection right now. Look for me, would you?"  
  
"But I already know what you look like."  
  
"Compare us."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Please."  
  
I nodded slowly although I knew that he could not see, and took a deep breath. Holding onto his warm hand I guided him to the edge of the cool running river, and opened my eyes of sight to do my love's bidding. Features were similar in both faces, both humanoid and strong. Both bodies had legs, arms, heads, eyes, but one thing was different. The ears were different. One set was elongated, pointed at the tips and larger in their curl. I touched one of my own ears in horror, but my hand fell away as I looked to his face. I had never noticed the difference of his ears before to mine, partly because I did not know my own face as well as others do, I suppose, but there it was. There he stood. There was something magical about him now, something unexpected, young, yet old; old as time and wiser than winter. Was he one of the magical creatures he had spoken of in his own dreams? I couldn't speak, and couldn't move my lips to tell him but I did not need to because just then I felt his hand on my shoulder. He stared at the water with a sort of criticizing clarity and much wonder. His fingers now strayed to the tips of his ears but fell short like mine.  
  
"What am I?" came his words like mist upon the water.  
  
I didn't know what to say. I was confused, ashamed, and embarrassed for not telling him sooner, for figuring out that he was different from me.  
  
"Legolas-"  
  
"I'm not a human," he said. "I'm not like you."  
  
"It doesn't matter," I told him quickly. "It doesn't matter to me."  
  
His head bowed. "I'll have to go."  
  
I grabbed his hand. "No. No, stay with me."  
  
"I can't-"  
  
"I need you to," I said. "We have each other. What more do we need?"  
  
"You're right." He took one last look at the water, face grim and set. "Let's go home."  
  
We did not talk the rest of the day and silence fell heavily in the air. I was cleaning the house and Legolas was gardening when I found something.  
  
There had been a loose chip in the wood under the mats in my bed, and as I pulled away the woodwork, I found a hole. In the hole was a very small book. It had no title, but as I opened it, a colored picture sprang as shocking and radiant as a stain glass window. It was a picture of a person very much like Legolas with long blond hair and long pointed ears. Below his picture was a line of words-his title.  
  
Thranduil Greenleaf: Elf King of Mirkwood  
  
G . . . Greenleaf, I thought. Legolas . . .   
  
A rush of tingling excitement flooded through my bones and deep interest stirred in me as I sat down on my bed and began reading. The book contained histories of all the creatures that lived in middle earth: Hobbits, dwarves, and elves. Legolas's people. My eyes flickered over words so quick and beautiful to learn that I sat myself in front of the fire and did not get up until late that night. When I was finished reading, as if he knew, Legolas opened the door to my hut, took off the felt hat that I made him and stood before the fire. I could see the flame in his eyes, and I could see all of him. He could see me too, but we couldn't look at each other. I knew about him now and some of the great things he had done. I knew about his race, his family, and his home. I knew everything. I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. Instead, there was silence. A deep sadness came with the silence, but it did not turn into tears. Why was I so sad when my love was with me?  
  
"Legolas, I-"  
  
"Don't speak," he whispered and the fire flickered and crackled before us.  
  
"You can't stop me," I said. "I know the truth. I know who you are."  
  
"And so do I," he said. "I know my name."  
  
"But-"  
  
"That is enough if you need to face everyday--and I mean everyday alone, but I have you so it's more than enough."  
  
I felt like crying again, but no tears came. They would never come, I realized. Not as long as he was there. Instead, I held up the book to him, offering the truth. I saw him look at it at first with a wonderful curiosity, but the wonder became cruel, bitter, and he saw everything very clearly. He saw me, and he realized that he could not have me and have the truth as well. He had to choose.  
  
He took the book in his hands and my heart fluttered to my throat, but then a cry came forth from it as he threw the book into the fire, pages turning blackened and curled. The book blazed and his eyes burned with mine, extinguishing into darkness.  
  
"How could you do that?" I murmured. "Your history, your past. Yourself."  
  
"If you think that who I am can be written down and captured in a few words or anybody for that matter, then you do not understand me. I choose you."  
  
I choose you.  
  
Oh how he could have echoed those words in my ears for all eternity!  
  
  
*End of Chapter 3*  
  
I should have the next chapter posted soon! :)  
-Ista


	4. Friends and Partings

Title: I' Mal Lasse(The Golden Leaf)  
Chapter 4: Friends and Partings  
Author: Ista of the Dreamers  
Rating: G-PG . . . I guess  
Disclaimer: I do not own Legolas or any of the other characters J.R.R. Tolkien created in the Lord of the Rings.....darn. But the character of Kira Aparathon is mine.  
Stuff: What shall happen to Kira next, you're asking? heh heh Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, and :) the usual: feedback/comments/ reviews are very welcome! Thank you for reading this!  
  
I' Mal Lasse(The Golden Leaf)**  
**  
After that day, all was golden for us. Years passed, seasons turned. My interests shifted towards calligraphy and I spent my days mixing bark with water, flowers, perfume, seeds, and honey to create the best paper and ink. I packaged small bottles of ink and used them for recording out life together, each and every happy moment. I gave my most beautiful bottle of ink to Legolas on the day we decided was our anniversary and he made me a wreath of the roses he had planted for me ten years before. I was thirty five then, still young but growing older, and I was still the only one who knew the truth about him.  
  
Legolas looked the same as he had the day I met him, young as spring. Maybe he did not choose to see the lines that had begun to wrinkle my face and assumed that he was aging the same. He had made me promise to never speak of his race but deep down, I think he still thought he was human. I had thought of the truth for a long time after I read the book, and eventually learned to live with it and whatever was to come. I did not have the heart to tell him that he was immortal while I, of course, was not. He would live forever while death would eventually come for me. I did not have the heart.  
  
It was an autumn day, much like the day I had first met him, when I heard a strange yet familiar sound from my past. It was the sound of horses prancing over crisp leaves, and I hurried inside to tell Legolas, but he had already heard them  
  
"Come inside," he said to me softly, "and we will let them pass."  
  
"But they might bring news," I argued with him. "They could be soldiers from your battle."  
  
"My battle?" he asked me softly. "My battle has been over and done with for more than ten years. If anyone had wanted to find me, they would have by now."  
  
"But, Legolas-"  
  
"Come inside," he said again and he locked the door firmly shut. They cry of horses met our ears, ancient and wild creatures. The sounds of people too came. Men, I thought.  
  
Legolas ushered me to the back wall and blew out all the candles pouring water on the fire in the hearth. They will have already seen the smoke, I thought, but I crept closer to the window, watching with excitement and anticipation As the horses became visible along the trodden dirt road, I saw that their riders were not men, but elves, like Legolas. They carried a sense of authority and sternness about them, and their cloaks were dark green, horses chocolate brown. I stepped slowly away from the window in tense excitement. Legolas had not noticed the elves outside, but gathered me close against the back wall, and covered my mouth with a gentle hand.  
  
"Legolas, they're elves!" I frantically whispered.  
  
"What?" His eyes softened and then, he rushed to the window and pulled the shades down tight. "Then let us hope that they will go away quietly."  
  
I waited in a silence not quite so dreaded as on other occasions, for these strangers were not thieves. They were kinsman to Legolas, my love.  
  
There was a firm knock on the door, and I closed my eyes. Please let them come, I thought. Please let them see him. Legolas would accept himself if they told him the truth.  
  
"We wish to talk with you," came a voice from outside.  
  
Legolas held me tighter, and then there was another steady knock on the door.  
  
"We have seen the woman from the window," came another voice. "Will you not accept two weary travelers into your own home? The weather outside is turning cold."  
  
"We wish to see no one today," said Legolas suddenly to my surprise. His hands were shaking against mine and his face was pale. There seemed to be a surprised silence from outside and then:  
  
"I know that voice which has spoken. I remember it well from ten years before. I thought that the voice was gone, and now it seems that it has arisen from the grave."  
  
"Whom do you speak of, friend?" Legolas asked them.  
  
"An elf prince of the highest order, lost in battle. He was a fair warrior who was the kindest and wisest in all of his father's court in Mirkwood. He was a warm person who saved my life in battle when an orc was sure to slay me and I lay senseless; the person whom I had no time to thank because he has been missing, presumed dead since. His father has been in mourning for ten years."  
  
I bit my lip, tasted blood, and watched Legolas's quivering form. His eyes shone a new understanding. He clutched his head, shook it and said, "No."  
  
"He was a great archer," said the other elf.  
  
"Yes," I whispered.  
  
"And his name was Legolas."  
  
My love looked up and then at me.  
  
"Legolas Greenleaf," I said.  
  
In the kind of dream that we had been emersed in the very moment we met, Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, stepped to the door and opened it.  
  
The two blond elves that looked so much like him stared, then   
smiled, and leaped upon him, crying out for joy.  
  
"Legolas! It is you!"  
  
"And it is you," Legolas said to them louder, happier, and different from his normal self. "I am beginning to remember everything at last at the sight of you two scoundrels!"  
  
I stayed, hidden against the wall, watching with mixed emotion. It was my doing that pressed him to remember, and now, they would separate us, and take him away from me. I felt my hand stray to my heart.  
  
"Where have you been in ten years?" one asked him.  
  
"What happened in the battle?"  
  
"Please, my friends," he said. "All will come in time... There is someone I'd like you to meet."  
  
He stepped into the darkness with me, lighting the fire and other candles. I spoke to him without talking, shaking my head. I did not feel comfortable . . . If my face touched the fire light, all would be lost, but Legolas smiled at me, took my hand, and led me towards the other elves. I closed my eyes slowly, dazzled by the flames, and curtseyed to the two men whose mouths were open in surprise.  
  
"This is my fair lady, Kira Aparathon," Legolas said softly. "She saved me from death and I owe her my life."  
  
You owe me nothing, I wanted to tell him but the other spoke first.  
  
"Kira, lirimaer," the first one spoke with a bow.  
  
The other one smiled and kissed my hand. "Vanimle sila tiri, Kira."  
  
"Elvish," said Legolas fleetingly. "I had almost forgotten."  
  
"The tongue you spoke when you first came here to me," I said. "It is a beautiful language."  
  
"A mortal, Legolas," said one of the elves with a grin. "She is a gem where humans are concerned . . . but why did you choose to stay with her?"  
  
Legolas started, then smiled, and gestured towards them. "Kira, these are my two friends, Dunelin and Hallamereth. Memories of them are clear in my mind now . . . But come! Dinner has been prepared, my friends, and then you must rest."  
  
"Ah, Legolas, always the chef you were," said Hallamereth with a chuckle and supper commenced.  
  
It was a quiet evening save for the rapid beating of my heart and the fears that grew to warnings which unsettled me. I served the three elves food and then retreated outdoors to escape them because I felt like I was suffocating. I did not hear much of their conversation, but even as I closed my eyes, they were talking of the past and the future. With my last frantic thought before sleep took me to gentle dreams, I knew that he was going to leave me.  
  
  
  
I was right. The next morning, they were gone without a trace. I could not think of how painful it must have been for him, but instead, only thought of my own pain. I was alone. I would never see my prince again. How could he have just left me?   
  
But no. A surge of strength came suddenly to myself, and my fate was decided. I knew what I had to do. Packing a few articles of clothing on my back along with some food, I set out along the path from where Legolas had first come. Worn with time, the road was barely distinguishable from the rest of the forest floor, but I followed it well enough. It was the only path I could take to find him. For hours I walked, never stopping for rest or water because I kept thinking about my future and what it would be like without him. My pain was great, but my will was greater and overcame my endless fears in the forest so I walked.  
  
Dusk was already spreading across the horizon by the time I found their camp. I hid in the shadows, behind a large tree from their view, reminding myself that elves had a heightened sense of hearing and sight. I had to be very quiet. They spoke little and I heard almost no sound from Legolas except some questions which were brief and quickly answered by his friends. The warm smells from their fire made my stomach rumble, and I at last sat down, and ate, taking care to make no sharp sound. I smiled suddenly, and thought to myself that elves did not have the keenest ears in the world after all. Then I fell asleep to the sound of insects humming throughout the jeweled forest.  
  
I awoke with a start, the clanging sound of a kettle like the clash of symbols but I took care not to gasp. It was Hallamereth, cleaning their pots and pans before setting off. I raised myself to my feet, supported by a tree branch, and walked on, keeping always several yards behind them.  
  
That day passed very slowly to me. I do not think that I was thinking clearly because my mind was clouded with desperation. To remember that day was like remembering a procession or a daisy field long ago, smeared with time, blurred in distant memories. I do not think that I ever ate once that day, but I did think to myself constantly. It was the only nourishment I needed to think that I would lose him if I did not take another step, and another, until the sky was the ground and I was walking into clouds.  
  
Indeed, the ground had become seeped and misty, fog rolling like blankets over the earth, hanging like furry coats on the trees. I forced myself to choose a resting place closer to their camp than the night before in order to actually see where it was and to keep the three elves in my sight. It was so dark and misty that I could barely see my own fingers inches from my face. I tripped over many things in the blackness, hoping that none of them were alive when some smooth stones caught my attention. For a moment, I wondered what they were. When the elves finally got a fire started, it was a peaceful beacon of hope to me, and a comfort of light so I could see into the immediate darkness. I lifted my hand to see where it was and I found that the smooth polished stone it grasped was a grave marker. I recoiled suddenly, images coming to my mind from long ago, and I stooped low to read the name: Rosemary Butterworth. A human name, I wondered. What could a grave be doing in the middle of the forest? and that was when I noticed all the other stones that the elves had taken no notice of. We were in a graveyard.  
  
I shut my eyes, wiping the sweat of fevered hysteria from my brow and coldness seeped into my bones. I had only a little food left, and when I ate it, it tasted sour and cold to me. I sank against a damp tree, watching the flickering fire of the camp in the distance, and longing for my love.  
  
"Supper time, Legolas," came Hallamereth's jovial voice.  
  
"I'm not hungry," was the soft reply.  
  
Dunelin's voice now spoke as well. "What's wrong, Legolas? Ever since we started out, you've been this way."  
  
There came a heavy sigh. "I miss her, my friends."  
  
"The human?" Hallamereth snorted. "But you can always go back to her once your father welcomes you! She's not going anywhere."  
  
"Yes, but I didn't even leave a note or say goodbye-"  
  
"It was best that you left her," said Dunelin. "Once elves get mixed up in the race of mortals, heartache is sure to follow. Nothing good will come of your love for each other and only hardships will befall you. It can be painful to both of you."  
  
"But I love her!" His words were so clear and strong that they echoed in the forest, but to me, they could have reached the moon. My heart was warm again with those words, and it softened. I wanted to run to him just then, call out words of joy, but I couldn't because something froze me just then in my tracks.   
  
There was a breath of warm air behind me, almost brooding and I turned around slowly, my voice stuck in my throat.  
  
It was a troll.  
  
*End of Chapter 4*  
  
The last chapter should be up tomorrow or the day after! :)  
-Ista


	5. Dreaming Gold

Title: I' Mal Lasse(The Golden Leaf)  
Chapter 5: Dreaming Gold  
Author: Ista of the Dreamers  
Rating: G-PG . . . I guess  
Disclaimer: I do not own Legolas or any of the other characters J.R.R. Tolkien created in the Lord of the Rings.....darn. But the character of Kira Aparathon is mine.  
Stuff: Left ya hanging on that last one, didn't I? Here it is! The last chapter! :) Thank you to EVERYONE who has read, and BIG thanks to the people who have reviewed as well! The feedback has been well worth it! ^_^ I've inclued an Author's Note at the end of this fic as I've done with all my others. And thank you so much for reading this!  
  
I' Mal Lasse(The Golden Leaf)**  
**  
The troll . . .  
  
"Tomorrow," came Legolas's voice to my frozen and trembling lips, "I'm going back."  
  
Their conversation dwindled to nothing as my focus of attention caught on the creature before me, all of my fears becoming reality. The great lumbering mass of a being whom I had only heard of in children's stories and read in history books now stood before me, dumbly staring down at what I hoped he thought looked to be a very skinny woman with a nasty taste. He looked frightful, from the land of nightmares, large, lumbering, as stupid as creatures come and as evil too. I had not the nerve to cry out below him, shocked as I was, so I simply stood there, eyes locked with the giant beasts', cold and staring. Then his eyes flickered away from mine, and the troll ambled surprisingly silently towards the camp. It walked slowly, but its strides were long, and in its hand was a giant club as long as a man's body. My heart leapt to my throat, and through the mist, I realized that they could not see the troll coming straight towards them. I scampered forward, keeping close behind the troll, and trying to see through the darkness, where they were.  
  
The elves sat with their backs to the troll and I. Legolas was sitting by the fire, and the troll raised his club then, ready to smash it down.  
  
"Legolas! Look out!" I screamed, ramming into the troll's side with all my might to stop him, and take his attention away from the camp. Legolas jumped to his feet in an instant.  
  
"Kira!"  
  
"Troll! Help!" I screamed. The elves gathered their bows and swords while the troll came after me. I picked up a large block, beating it against his toes and the creature roared in agony. I dodged his club, and then Legolas was beside me, using his arrows, swiftly shooting one after another into the troll's chest and head. Hallamereth and Dunelin skillfully wielded their swords so the troll was stabbed in all directions, and I had my rock. I grabbed a handful of pebbles as well as some arrows and raced to the top of one of the large standing gravestones, ramming them into the troll's back. The creature howled again, this time, using his back hand to knock down Legolas and throw him to the side.  
  
"No!" I cried, rushing down from the stone and helping him up until he was on his feet. "Are you all right?"  
  
"I think so-" He never finished his reply before I pushed him back down to the ground for I had only just seen the troll's club aimed for his skull in time. In a split second, I pushed him out of the way, and then heard something crack like wood against stone. It was my own bones breaking and my head exploded with pain as I was thrust against a stone and all became dimmer. Hallamereth and Dunelin had been thrown aside and lay still much to my horror, but Legolas was running to pick something up. As the troll lumbered towards me, I felt the breath of its club ready to smash me into oblivion. That was when I saw Legolas, standing on the top of the highest grave marker with Dunelin's long silver sword. The club was poised and I cried out for my death to be swift, but just then, Legolas leapt from the tall stone and onto the troll's back, jamming the sword into the creature's heart. I closed my eyes shut tight and shuddered with the fear and pain of all that had happened. I felt dizzy and cold when I opened my eyes and saw the body of the troll, as big as a tree that had been felled. My eyes came to rest on the gravestone I had fallen against, and with the first rays of morning light, I read the name:  
  
Kirin Aparathon R.I.P.  
  
Father . . . A weight seemed to be lifted from my shoulders then. I knew in those few seconds what it felt like to live, be loved, and then die. Would I survive now? A hand crept to my cheek, warm but with cold sweat. I opened my eyes again and saw his face.  
  
"Oh, my Kira." I would have thought those were the happiest sounding words had it not been for the tears in his eyes.  
  
"Your lip is bleeding," I heard myself say to him faintly, which seemed strangely funny to me at the time because I could not feel my own blood flowing freely. I could not move.  
  
The two other elves were beside me now as well. Dunelin's gentle fingers pressed into my neck and he seemed to gaze quickly over all my wounds.  
  
"She may survive," was his grim reply, "but she must be taken immediately to Rivendell."  
  
"Take me home," I whispered.  
  
"No, no," Legolas soothed. "I am taking you to a great healer, Kira. My people will help you in Rivendell. We can be happy there."  
  
I knew he was lying, but I didn't care. I seemed to be looking at his face through water, and something wet was on my face as well. "Am I going to die?"  
  
"No, Lady Kira," said Hallamereth with a smile.  
  
"I don't care," I told them now, and Legolas clutched my hand tighter. "I am with my father, Legolas. He's here."  
  
His eyes skirted over the gravestone I lay against and then they closed. "I promise that you will not be with your father just yet."  
  
I smiled even though it hurt. "You saved my life."  
  
"And you saved my life once more," he said too, smiling. "How will I ever repay you now?"  
  
"You already have," I said. "I love you, Legolas."  
  
"Just rest now, Kira," he said softly.  
  
"Don't leave me," I said, then I closed my eyes and remembered no more.  
  
*******************  
  
Faded memories from a dream . . .   
  
"You came after me . . ."  
  
Dreams are all you have in death, I thought to myself.  
  
And yet . . .   
  
My memory came back to me in whispers of perfume and humming smoky day dreams in a flawless night. There were no shadows in this new place, only soft light, fresh food, clean smells and beautiful songs with rich harmony, clear ringing. This was a place to be happy, and I shall always remember that about Rivendell.  
  
The first person I saw when I awoke was the most enchanting being I have ever laid eyes on, and elf princess with such pure beauty that my own eyes glimmered in her presence. She wore a delicate crystal necklace, robes of white, and though her hair was as black as a starless night, she was an elf. Like her father, Elrond, Arwen was of the magic and of the old.  
  
"So you are the love of the immortal prince," were her first words to me. "I envy your courage, Kira, but I fear for your heart."  
  
She became my companion for many months as I grew strong again, the aches and pains of my battle growing less every day. I met Elrond once or twice and he gave me a few kind words and praise but for the rest of the elves dwelling in Rivendell, I was a mystery, a rumor, a legend. I waited for Legolas who was in Mirkwood. Apparently, he had been summoned by his father after waiting for days by my side. That much was told to me by Arwen.  
  
"Will he return?" I asked her everyday, and her answer was never certain.  
  
"To us, you must forgive the limits of time," Arwen told me over tea one day. "To us, an hour is a breath of wind when we are younger. As we age in the immortal sense, every hour remains an hour, but we see it as precious time that can be spent doing something which is fair and wise."  
  
I sighed. "I sometimes wonder whether our time together was nothing more than a walk in a flower garden to him."  
  
"Does he love you?"  
  
"He's told me often that he does."  
  
"Then I am wondering," said Arwen softly. "Do you love him?"  
  
"With all my heart."  
  
"Then leave with that."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Go back to your home with the safe knowing that you have   
loved and lost."  
  
I shook my head. "I will wait for him."  
  
"Until when?"  
  
"Until I die!" I had said the words without thinking, but Arwen only stared at me with unblinking eyes and they filled with tears.  
  
"You have such spirit and love," she whispered. "If I ever love a mortal man, I hope that I will be able to make the right decision for myself, like you have."  
  
I spent two months after that in Rivendell, vowing to wait for one more month. I was taught elvish by Arwen and I learned of the ancient ways of the elves, a more beautiful and cultured history than I had read in my book.  
  
I waited one more month, and still he did not come. The next morning, I woke up and knew that my time had come to leave. I had already gone after my prince once. I could not go after him again. I packed my things, said goodbye with much gratitude and thanks to Elrond and Arwen, then left quietly, slipping out of the gates of Rivendell to walk at the edge of the forest to my home.  
  
Goodbye," I said quietly to him and to myself, and began walking towards home. I had not walked two feet when a voice halted me.  
  
"Kira!"  
  
I turned around, and ran to him. I could feel our embrace in the wind. We kissed for the last time there, the trees blowing softly around us, green leaves falling. I looked into his eyes for the last time, and they were clear, soft, and serious. He caressed my cheek softly, and then we parted. For our love, his and mine, I would have given anything, but I knew that that path was not meant to be. I could feel it in my bones. We had made our decision.  
  
I was far away from Rivendell, but I could see him in the distance, his figure small against the trees just like the first time we met. I could hear his voice in the breeze.  
  
Kira, Kira."  
  
"Legolas . . ."  
  
From the trees above me, a golden leaf fluttered into my open palms. The golden message in golden ink written on the leaf shared my heart forever with his.  
  
I will always love you.  
  
I placed the leaf over my heart as my feet carried me across the forest and back to my home.  
  
*The End*  
  



	6. Epilogue

Epilogue:  
  
The sky was a misty blue on the brisk autumn day that Legolas Greenleaf set out from Mirkwood to reach Rivendell by Lord Elrond's calling. He was to be one of the council of which a secret matter would be discussed. His father had bid him go well to the Homely House but with caution, for the times had grown dark. War was brewing, and the future did not look as bright as it once had to look upon.  
  
Their course had changed considerably by Legolas's request and he kept fairly quiet and to himself even though Dunelin and Hallamereth, his two companions were with him to escort him to the borders of Rivendell. His friends had almost forgotten why the forest they passed to get to their destination was suddenly so difficult for him to cross. Legolas had thought long and hard whether he should visit the painful place again or not, and ultimately, his decision seemed the best solution.  
  
said Dunelin with a nod of his head. If we turn now, we shall reach Rivendell faster than if we keep going.  
  
We're almost there, Legolas said softly.  
  
All of his memories came back to him as he walked along the road he had first stumbled down sixty years ago. He felt his heart beat as his pace quickened in anticipation. And there it was!  
  
This place . . .  
  
The hut was exactly as he remembered it, small, and cozy-looking. The roof was patched in a few more places then when he last saw it, but it looked the same, warm, inviting. There was only one thing different about it: The hut looked empty.  
  
I remember, came a voice behind the Prince of Mirkwood.  
  
Legolas turned his head to the elf, Hallamereth, who had spoken, and smiled a little sadly. Do you understand why I had to come now, my friend? You both must now remember.  
  
A hand was laid on his shoulder, and he looked at Dunelin who was staring at the hut. His other friend's voice was barely a whisper.  
  
Legolas . . . Look.  
  
Legolas turned around slowly and his breath came short. Smoke had began pouring from the chimney on the roof as normally as it once had, as if someone . . . The elf reeled backwards, running into his friends as they steadied him. Why did the sight of the smoke suddenly make him sick and dizzy with the thought . . .  
  
What am I to do? he said almost to himself, and then he looked up at his friends, his face a mask of pain. Oh-what am I to do?!  
  
Dunelin and Hallamereth glanced at each other, but were both speechless.  
  
Legolas swallowed, and looked back at the hut. Not in a thousand years did I think she would still be alive!  
  
Hallamereth managed to say, You could always walk away, Legolas.  
  
Or you could go to her, said Dunelin. What have you to be afraid of? Guilt?  
  
Legolas shook his head, and closed his eyes.  
  
Both of you agreed to separation, said Dunelin. Lord Elrond himself knew it would come to pass. It was the right decision. You loved each other-  
  
And we still love each other! Legolas said.  
  
Then why do you fear her hate?  
  
Legolas sighed, and then nodded. He knew that his friends were right. He could either ignore her, an old lady she probably now was, or talk with her, something he had feared he would never be able to do again. And so he decided. He took a few steps, turned around to look back at Dunelin and Hallamereth, then walked slowly on.  
  
As he walked up to the hut's opening, he saw the vegetable gardens just as they had been since he originally planted them. And the flowers, looking just as bright even though the coldness of fall had already settled over Middle-Earth.  
  
He was there-he was at the entrance. There was a delicious smell coming from inside and the sound of water boiling. Too late to turn back now-he had taken a step inside and he held his breath as he looked at the figure sitting in the dark cushioned chair, covered in a black shawl-her shawl. He could do nothing but speak her name in a broken voice.  
  
  
  
The figure stirred, shawl was pushed to her shoulders, and stood. It was not his love, but a young lady. She was barely a lady, really, youthfulness in her crystal blue eyes, and her golden hair shone. He noticed that her hand had strayed to Kira's familiar sword on a tabletop nearby, but as she looked closer at him, her hand went to her mouth, now opened wide in awe, and she smiled.  
  
I knew you'd come, she said in a breath, then she laughed, and her laugh lit up the room. Before Legolas could say another word, she ran up to him and he was instantly caught in her embrace. Her hands found the pack of arrows on his back. The bow . . .  
  
Do I know you-  
  
No, but I feel as though I've known you my whole life, she said through her smile. I've always known you.  
  
Who are . . . But Legolas found that he could not speak, and let his emotions take control.  
  
Kira loves you so much, was the girl's whisper, and Legolas felt a surge of happiness sweep through him as she hugged him tighter.  
  
Finally, she let go, and he was able to speak, though he could hardly find his voice. Then she is alive.  
  
The girl frowned, and shook her head sadly. No, my mother died a year ago.  
  
He trembled, but realized that he had felt it all along. His head looked up to the girl's in sudden wonder. Your mother? Then she married-  
  
the girl said with a laugh. She never married. She took me in when I was two and she found me abandoned in the forest all alone. She saved my life.  
  
The girl made a friendly gesture to one of the chairs by the fire and Legolas sat in one gratefully, taking in all that was around him, all that he had just heard, and all the memories he had of Kira in the hut with him by her side. A cup filled with tea was placed in his hands, and he smiled.  
  
Thank you. The girl sat down opposite him, and he swallowed. What is your name?  
  
she replied.   
  
An elvish name.  
  
Yes, my mother named me after one of her best friends. She was an elven lady my mother thought was the kindest and fairest of all the elves in Rivendell who befriended her.  
  
Legolas drank and set down his cup. I have spoken with the Arwen you speak of now. She is one of my friends too, and indeed the most beautiful elf I have ever seen.  
  
Arweniel's sighed in wonder and laughed again. I know you must think it strange, Legolas, but you were so dear to my mother that you have become so dear to me. She spoke of you every minute of the day, and she loved you deeply. She still loves you.  
  
Legolas breathed and said, As do I.  
  
After you left, she set up more gardens and flowers around the countryside for other people and for nature. By what you taught her, she has made this darkened land beautiful once again. Arweniel rose then, and took his cup, because he was again speechless. She went quietly to a wooden box on the table and opened it. Out of it she pulled a letter and gave it to Legolas.  
  
It's from Kira, she said. She always wanted you to have it in case one day, you returned.  
  
Thank you, he whispered, gripping the letter addressed to him so tightly he feared he would rip it. Words cannot express my gratefulness, Arweniel. I would like to do something for you.  
  
Just being here is enough in return for me, she said with a light hearted smile.  
  
Would you care to travel with us? My friends, Hallamereth and Dunelin are traveling with me to Rivendell on summons from Lord Elrond.  
  
she said with an excited gasp. Oh no, Legolas, I could never impose on you-  
  
It would be nothing at all. And you would be able to see more of my culture, of the elves.  
  
But, I couldn't-  
  
And you'd be able to finally meet the elven Princess Arwen, whom you were named after.  
  
Her eyes brightened.  
  
Others would love to see you together, as well as I, for there is only one person I have seen who shares her elvish beauty, and that person is you.  
  
Arweniel's blush was so red that it could have burnt the fire, and she rushed up to hug him again.  
  
Thank you! Thank you, Mr. Greenleaf! I shall be delighted to come with you.  
  
Legolas smiled kindly, and said, Then would you permit me to catch up with you and my friends later? There is something I must do.  
  
She laughed her agreement, and they went outside to talk with Hallamereth and Dunelin. After some tea and much thanks, the lady Arweniel and the others were off to Rivendell while Legolas stayed behind to tend the fire and finger the letter that he had not let go of since it was given to him.  
  
Before the fire, he ran his fingers over the envelope, and then gently opened it.  
  
Her handwriting looked the same, maybe a bit more curled and smaller, but it was the same he had read before in the ink they used to make together. As he read the letter, he had to move it constantly for fear that it would get wet with his tears.  
  
_Dear Legolas,  
  
My love, as I write this, I am overcome with the thought that someday, you will read this, and I will not be with you to read it. But if you indeed are reading this, then I have died; the curse of mortals, some elves say, but maybe not. All things die, Legolas. Flowers die, humans die, even elves, sometimes.  
  
If you are reading this letter, then you have met Arweniel. Doesn't she remind you of a sunflower, or maybe the bees' own honey? Arweniel has been the purpose in my life for some time now, and she never ceases to amaze me with her unconditional love and friendship. I think that you and her would have become the best of friends if you were not a warrior and had more important things to do.  
  
As I write this, I know that you will be feeling sad, but you mustn't dwell on the past. The past was golden, Legolas. Never forget that. We had the past, the best years of my life, and those times will be forever immortal because of the strength of our love. We will always love each other. You mustn't feel guilty because of your decision, because it was mine as well, and now, I know that it was for the best. I have seen the death and destruction that will come over the peoples of Middle-Earth in the future, and I know that you will be there in battle to fight against the evil threatening our freedom. It is your destiny. I am not sad because of the past. You must search deep within yourself to not be saddened by it either.  
  
One last thing, Legolas, that I have to give you, is a present. It is my grave, actually. You must visit my grave before you begin your battle. There is something for you there that you will never forget. I shall give you directions to where it will be:  
  
Go first, past the rose bushes that you planted. They have grown quite beautifully since you left-I think you will be proud of Arweniel for keeping them as healthy as you once did. They are a sight to see. Walk straight from there. My grave will be exactly between the distance of my mother's grave, and my father's. You remember where my father's grave is, don't you? Where the troll attacked us, of course. Though, if you keep straight, you should run into it. The land has changed, Legolas. I have planted new things, and new things have grown. You might want to wear a cloak on the way there. It is quite windy all year round.  
  
You are everything to me, Legolas, even after I am dead, I will still be with you forever. Outside of Arweniel, you are the love of my life. I will love you. Forever.  
  
~Kira Aparathon  
  
_ After he read the letter, Legolas folded it and put it in a pouch by his side. Then he poured water over the fire that had once burn steadily and watched the embers glow and fade. He nodded, then left the hut.  
  
******************  
  
Past the roses he rode, then through trees and fields. It soon grew windy, so he put on his green cloak, covering his eyes from the dirt blowing with the trees. Then it was too windy for his horse to go on, and so he left it tied to a sturdy tree, and, head downward and bowed to the wind, he walked on. He walked forever it seemed until he entered a field. Head still pressed downwards, he did not know he was close until he was practically standing on top of it.  
  
A single rose covered her grave, and he lifted his eyes to read the smooth grey headstone. In simple letters, it said.  
  
Kira Aparathon  
  
R.I.P.  
  
But then, at the bottom, there was a carving of small words, and Legolas squinted to read them, astonished when he read his own name. As he read the message, the sun came out from behind a cloud, and he took off his cloak.  
  
To Legolas, My Love: Look up.  
  
And slowly, Legolas looked up to a gold sky. He blinked. Was it the sun, or was it his imagination? No. It was a tree. And its branches were swaying in the wind, washing the sky with leaves of gold. A smile broke upon his face, and he laughed to the sky as he turned all around to find the trees everywhere in the field, covering the horizon with leaves awash in the wind. Breezy and blowing, Legolas let the sun fall over him in the golden sky where dawn was just the beginning.  
  
*****************_  
  
_  
  
  



	7. Author's Note

Author's Note: A little note I add onto the end of every fic I write just sums up the work much better, I think, and what writing means to me. Writing means a lot. Next to music, it's one of the most important things in my life, and I love it. :) I love writing in all forms, all shapes and sizes, all styles, and flavors.  
  
As for the Lord of the Rings, as a reader it changed my life, and as a movie, it took me away to a world where dreams are reality. A month after I saw the movie, my friends(who are die-hard Legolas, Orlando Bloom fans) urged me to write a fic involving the character of our dear elf-boy. I wasn't much of a fan, until I started writing him, and as I learned more of the elven ways through my research, I began to respect their race much more, their language, their culture, all make-believe, and yet so real in Tolkien's world. I took the character of Kira as not really a person who lived in Middle-earth because she knew nothing of it, but a person suddenly brought into a world of unbelievable fantasy, yet reality for her.  
  
And what a great day this has been! The The Fellowship of the Ring out on VHS and DVD! One movie to rule them all it certainly is!  
  
People have asked me for more LOTR fanfiction, since this is the only one I've written. I actually wrote a Harry Potter/LOTR parody(the two blend nicely together, actually) for my friends who are strictly divided between the two. Why can't all the wizarding worlds just live together, I ask you? I've started a fic with Frodo called The Sixth of October and it's first two chapters are up now. For those of you who liked I' Mal Lasse, I think you will also like Frodo's story. :)  
  
Thanks so much to the people who have read, and/or reviewed my fic! I cannot say thanks enough to you! And special thanks to PuterPatty who convinced me to repost this story in chapters, using a new word processor so more of you could read it who originally missed the messy, looooong version of I' Mal Lasse. Thank you!  
  
-Ista of the Dreamers  
  



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